


case #0170712B

by Handful_of_Silence



Series: Good Omens/The Magnus Archives [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aziraphale's continual urge to adopt all the local gays, Developing Humanity, Eldritch beings, M/M, Old Married Couple, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handful_of_Silence/pseuds/Handful_of_Silence
Summary: Statement of the entity known as Aziraphale, regarding what they are. Statement given direct from subject, 12th July 2017.Or: Jon has some questions.





	case #0170712B

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up from the previous part - case #0170712A - although it's not 100% necessary to understand this bit.
> 
> Very mild spoilers for series 3, set prior to the finale.

[CLICK]

[ _a determined slamming sound_ ]

ARCHIVIST  
Hello? Hello?

[ _bang bang bang_ ]

Excuse me! Hello? Martin? Look, I know you're in there. I can see your light's on! I will – [ _hitting the door particularly viciously, hissing in pain_ ] Bloody.... [ _shouting more irately_ ] Whoever you are, you will open this bloody door, or I'll.....

[ _bang bang bang – the door opens with a creak_ ]

CROWLEY: It's gone midnight. 

ARCHIVIST  
[ _wrong-footed_ ] I-I... erm... sorry... what?

CROWLEY  
We have neighbours here. We get on pretty well with them. You, coming round here, making a god-awful racket at this hour, it doesn't do anyone any favours. So why don't you just... Hey! Hey! [ _scuffling_ ] You can't... bloody hell, you can't just go trying to push! For god's sake, who raised you?

ARCHIVIST  
[ _forcefully_ ]Where's Martin? He was here, I know he was, so what have you done with him?

CROWLEY  
We've got him, he's fine. We've been having a little bit of a chat, is all. 

ARCHIVIST  
A ch-... _What have you done to him?_

[ _a crackling of static, getting louder_ ]

CROWLEY  
[ _a sharp sound, like a hiss_ ] Don't you... [ _harsh breathing, before speaking lowly_ ] Don't you threaten me, Archivist. That was, ok, hands up, that was partly my fault, sounding all ominous there. But you aren't in your Archives now. You are a guest here. You try any of that compulsion lark... let's say if I think you're going to be a danger to me and mine, we're going to have some problems on the hospitality front. 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _talking as he gets closer to the door_ ]...out like a light, poor thing, think he's had such a time of it, probably best to let him... Oh. Hello there. [ _pauses tentatively_ ] Is everything... is something the matter, Crowley?

CROWLEY  
Clarifying a few things for our guest, is all. I think they're all cleared up, hmm?

ARCHIVIST  
I – Right. Yes. Got it. 

CROWLEY  
Good enough. Introductions then. Angel, this one's the Archivist.

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh, we've been hearing ever so much about you! Martin, he's ever so fond of you, goodness he can talk for England if you get him started. I must say, some nasty business you've been involved in. [ _ushering sounds_ ] Come in, come in, no use you standing on the doorstep, dear boy, people will think we're the most dreadful hosts. 

ARCHIVIST  
[ _sounding flustered_ ] I-I can take off my own coat... There's no need...

CROWLEY  
Angel, don't fuss so, you'll frighten him. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Gracious me, he is a nervous thing isn't he? We aren't going to eat you, young man. 

ARCHIVIST  
I'm... well, it's unusual for people to be so welcoming. Usually they try to kill me. 

CROWLEY  
[ _deadpan_ ] The night is young. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Crowley! Apologies for this one, he seems to think he's _funny_ tonight. 

CROWLEY  
I'm hilarious. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Hmm. Anyway, come on in, make yourself at home, we've a few seats in the back room. Knew you'd be popping by, what with your young man upstairs. Tea?

ARCHIVIST  
Y-yes. Please. That would be lovely... Can I see him? Martin?

AZIRAPHALE  
I wouldn't really advise it, he's only just...

CROWLEY  
The boy thinks we've ensnared him. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh! Surely you don't think...

ARCHIVIST  
I- certainly, you're both being very kind, and I appreciate it, really I do, I just ... [ _pause_ ] I want to know. For myself. It's been... difficult, recently. I was – I was worried. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh my boy, then of course. 

CROWLEY  
Get started on the tea, would you, angel? I'll take him up. 

[ _two distinct sets of footsteps, one steady, one lighter, then the sound of two people ascending the stairs_ ]

CROWLEY  
Watch out for the second-to-last step, creaks like it's dying. 

[ _A few more steps. There is the soft squeak of a door being opened slowly. Gentle breathing can be heard._ ]

CROWLEY  
[ _noticeably quieter_ ] Satisfied?

ARCHIVIST  
Yes. Yes. [ _breathing out shakily_ ] Thank you. 

CROWLEY  
[ _sound of door closing_ ] Best let him sleep. Those corridors will knock it out of you, not counting for the weird time disconnect, and well, meeting Michael is no one's idea of a good time. 

ARCHIVIST  
I've had the pleasure. 

CROWLEY  
More's the pity. Anyway, back downstairs. Aziraphale's got Opinions about having guests so, whatever he offers you, just go along with it. I find nodding the best course of action. 

ARCHIVIST  
Right. I must say, you aren't... aren't what I expected. 

CROWLEY  
Normal.

ARCHIVIST  
All of the other... manifestations or avatars I've met, they're all a bit...

CROWLEY  
Fucked up?

ARCHIVIST  
Quite. So... if you don't mind my asking, is this what... do you actually look like this?

CROWLEY  
[ _coyly_ ] Why, Archivist, are you asking me to take off my human suit for you? And with my partner right downstairs?

ARCHIVIST  
N-no, no!

CROWLEY  
Ha, sorry. Couldn't resist teasing. We don't get a lot of company we can talk to like this, it's quite refreshing. 

ARCHIVIST  
So, you're not human then.

CROWLEY  
That's a bit needlessly philosophical at this time of night. I could ask you the same thing. 

ARCHIVIST  
...Point taken. 

CROWLEY  
You've got questions?

ARCHIVIST  
A few.

CROWLEY  
Your lot always do. 

[ _the thump of people descending the stairs_ ]

I met your predecessor once. Robinson, I think. I've got to say – watch the step – in comparison, you're pretty mild. She had her whole Nurse Ratchet vibe going on. 

ARCHIVIST  
I never had the pleasure of meeting here, but I hear she had that effect. Why did she come to you?

CROWLEY  
Same reasons as your assistant did – had a few questions. We try and keep a low profile, but it's difficult when our names keep turning up in your records. People who have 'encountered' us, so to speak. I think she saw our names and hedged her bets we wouldn't immolate her on sight. You weren't so lucky, huh – that hand of yours a Desolation courtesy?

ARCHIVIST  
Hmm? Oh. Yes. A nice reminder.

[ _entering the back room_ ]

CROWLEY  
Come on in, sit yourself down. I bet that was Jude. She's a right piece of work. 

ARCHIVIST  
Indeed. So, Gertrude came to ask you what you were?

CROWLEY  
Yeah. Not like we'd be stepping foot in Elias' domain any time soon, so she thought she'd come to us. Aziraphale was all for being hospitable, got out the nice china, gave her some of our biscuits. Wish she'd choked on them. Rude woman. Didn't even ask before she tried to drag a statement out of me. Aziraphale was not impressed. Biscuit rights, immediately revoked. He gets quite terrifying when enraged. [ _stage whisper_ ] It's a very attractive look on him. 

ARCHIVIST  
Er... 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _from the other room_ ] Crowley, dear, can you get the selection box out for our guest? 

CROWLEY  
[ _under his breath_ ] Told you. Likes playing host. [ _louder_ ] Sure!

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _coming into the room_ ]  
Here you are. Camomile, I don't think caffeine is such a good idea this time of night.

ARCHIVIST  
Right. Thanks. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Have yourself a biscuit. 

ARCHIVIST  
I'm alright – 

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh, go on, dear. 

CROWLEY  
Angel, leave him alone. 

AZIRAPHALE  
But he looks like he's going to waste away!

CROWLEY  
He's not going to waste away on our sofa over lack of a custard bloody cream, angel. 

[ _AZIRAPHALE makes a dismissive noise_ ]

ARCHIVIST  
[ _awkwardly changing the subject_ ] So... you two are in our Archives. More than once. Statements of Denzil Cassar. Baudouin Legrand, Martina Whitehead, David Harrison, Toby Malloy. And now, Caoimhe Ni Bhraonáin.

AZIRAPHALE  
She did get home alright, didn't she? It's such a horrid thing to come into contact with a Leitner, poor dear. 

ARCHIVIST  
I think she's fine, as much as can be expected. … The thing is, Gertrude filed your statements under the 'operatives'. And Elias, he seems to think you're some neutral parties of some sort. 

CROWLEY  
Elias doesn't like what he can't See. Creepy little man, never taken to him. And as for 'operatives', well. Gertrude seemed to think we were avatars of a sort, or at the very least servants bound to a Power. Representatives for our respective sides, keeping each other in check, making sure alliances were kept in balance, that sort of thing. We didn't see the need to dissuade her. 

ARCHIVIST  
You aren't avatars then. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Not like you, Archivist, no. 

ARCHIVIST  
It's er - Jonathan. Jon. Please. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Jon. 

ARCHIVIST  
So... you've never been human? I mean, originally. 

AZIRAPHALE  
It's a rather delicate... we're not manifestations exactly, but.. oh dear me, how to put it. 

ARCHIVIST  
I could... Would you like to make a statement? You're under no pressure to, of course...

CROWLEY  
You've got the tape recorder already running. 

ARCHIVIST  
What? I – [ _muffled fumbling as it is jostled in his pocket_ ] Oh. I don't know where... I didn't intend...

CROWLEY  
Those little bastards just pop up as they please. Don't worry about it. 

AZIRAPHALE  
I've never made a statement before. Sounds quite exciting actually. Oh shall we, Crowley?

CROWLEY  
Knock yourself out. Probably should be you though. Won't effect you as much. And it's not like the bloody Eye doesn't know we're here already. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Ah. Yes, of course, quite. 

CROWLEY  
[ _standing_ ] I'm going to go grab the wine. You want some?

ARCHIVIST  
Er- Sure. Thanks. 

[ _footsteps moving away_ ]

AZIRAPHALE  
Should I... dive right into it, as it were?

ARCHIVIST  
Yes. Why not. ....[ _clears throat_ ] Statement of Mr Ezra Fell – 

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh, Aziraphale, please. That's my... well, it's the name I chose. 

ARCHIVIST  
Right. Aziraphale. Statement of the entity known as Aziraphale, regarding... regarding what they are. Statement taken direc – 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _softly reproachful_ ] Statement given, Archivist. 

ARCHIVIST  
I- Yes. Of course. Statement given by subject, 12th July 2017. Statement begins. 

AZIRAPHALE  
We are – were manifestations of a sort. It is, gracious it's difficult to place into words, isn't it? There's so much you'll come to understand that it is not my place to tell. I don't have to tell you, I shouldn't think, about the Powers that move amongst you. The entities of singular intent, that exist just beyond your world, how ancient and formless and _hungry_ they are, devouring the fear you give them so freely. Manifestations... you've come across them already of course, I can see the marks on you, how ill use you've been in the service of your God. Beholding is... it is not a kind power to worship, my boy. Its sacrifices are perhaps less obvious than those of the Flesh or the Corruption, but they are numerous in their turn.... Anyway, you don't want to hear an old fusspot like me telling you what you already know. 

Manifestations are... they are the ways in which a Power interferes with your reality. The symptoms of its illness, I imagine it could be seen, metaphorically speaking. It's a creep of decay which marks Corruption, that giddy sense of endless vertigo which denotes the Vast. They are monstrous things – evidence of a disease – but while they are undoubtedly connected to the Power from which they were birthed, many have their own instincts. They choose their own victims, they develop their own patterns. It is a sentience of a kind, and as long as they serve their creator, these divergences are permitted. I am explaining all this to you first Jon, because you must understand that I – the thing I was before, it was not a person. It was a will, an impulse, a fractal slice of vision in amongst a host of eyes. It revelled in knowing, and it was monstrous. It knew its purpose and it did it well; it watched, unblinking and tireless, and it promised people knowledge and watched them go mad from the revelations, and in their terror, it glutted on what it had wrought. 

It was here, on Earth, amongst humans, for a long time. Longer than the other manifestations, that were content to watch only, to be the creeping sense of being followed on a dark night, something just behind you half-sighted in mirrors. It took human form sometimes. It stole the bodies from those who read from the wrong books, or bargained them in exchange for knowledge the seekers soon regretted wanting. It lived – in as much as one would call it living – by and for knowing and seeing and following its instincts. But after a long time, it started to see things it had no names for, things that it could catalogue but that it did not comprehend as experiences. Impulses it found difficult to consume. Once it met two humans on a dusty road, cold and shivering, and each begged for the knowledge to save the other – how to start a fire to keep the woman from freezing in the bitter desert chill, how to bind the man's wounds so he could survive the journey to the nearest town. Each offered it everything it had for the other – and although self-sacrifice and selflessness were not new concepts, it saw the depth of them, the strength and unwavering sincerity. It was so unsettled that it gave them the knowledge they wanted, and took only as sacrifice the memory of the man's first kiss, the knowledge of how to deftly thread a needle taught by a patient grandmother, before it returned to the night. 

After that, it took human form more often, and its bargains were softer – it was carried by its hosts, squatting parasite in their bodies, awash with newer sensations, and in return, afterwards, it let them live with the revelations it gave them, although this was not always a mercy. It was fascinated by things like happiness, and irritation, and pride and selflessness and other things it did not have the names for. So eventually, it fashioned itself its own body, a reflection to hide its form, and it wondered what else it did not have the capacity to know yet. 

It was then it met a spider. It was not unusual to meet other avatars or manifestations of the Powers, and Beholding has always been more interested in knowing of them than interfering with the internecine struggles and conflicts between the more active Powers. This was and is also true of the Web, which is content to spin and wait and bate its traps according to its own sedate rhythm, so it was surprised when one of its manifestations, after months of watching, grew bold and approached it. The spider wove its web over its endless eyes, and crawled into its ears and strung hammocks of silk there, and wondered aloud what the Eye was doing, sending one of its agents to mingle amongst the humans. The knowing thing that lurked in an ill-sitting body asked the spider the same questions, if the Web had some plans, and the spider tutted and skittered across its cheeks, and replied that it didn't know. The spider told the knowing thing that it had watched it, that it seemed to have doubts and fears, seemed to realise that things weren't as they appeared. The knowing thing dismissed this conjecture, replied that its existence was ineffable, a layering of truths that only the Eye could see, and the spider laughed with its human mouth and said that surely it wasn't ineffable then, if it was able to be known.

It did not trust the spider, for it is foolish to trust any footsoldier of the Web, whose words over years can be the drip drip of accumulative poison, whose every motion slowly draws its strings tighter. But it skittered through the streets and alleyways in a manner almost like a person, and the knowing thing followed where the spider went. It walked on coltish, poorly built legs, shielding many of its eyes from the onslaught of knowledge, and allowed itself to be shown humanity as the spider saw it. Lived amongst them, knew the people around it without asking or taking, but by experiencing. Sometimes it was with the spider and sometimes without, but they always came back together again, and it came to understand that this was intentional on the spider's part. That it liked the company. That it liked the company of the knowing thing. 

Eventually, the spider made an offer. To tell the knowing thing, the servant of the Eye, all that it wanted to know, the answers to all the questions it trapped under its tongue. A gesture of trust, it said. The knowing thing was anxious to compel the spider, thinking it a breach of their tentative alliance, but it insisted, giving a nervous too-full smile. 

And...so, I Asked him if this was a trick, and he looked at me with all of his eyes, and told me that he had never wanted to entrap me. That he'd never tried to lure my will to his own designs, that the idea of manipulating me as a marionette to his selfish desires was unthinkable to him. I asked him what he had wanted to tell me so badly, and he admitted that he controlled people in such minor ways, tempted them to such small sins, into such breakable webs, that they barely counted as sacrifices to the Web at all. He wanted me to know that this existence, this hungering we served, the fear we encouraged, brought him no satisfaction, not like living did, not like living as one of them did. 

I didn't ask any more questions. I didn't know what to do with the answers I had. And then he moved forward and wrapped his many spindling arms around me, as though I'd been caught, but with enough space that I could pull away if I so chose, and said he would like to ask me a question, if I'd allow it. I nodded and for the first time, struggled not to look for his words in his head, wrest them from him before he spoke. 

He asked me if my existence, if my service, my subservience to my Power – the ceaseless exposure of secrets, the peeling back to a screaming vulnerability, the watching from dark corners and making them fear my numerous unblinking eyes – if it was what I wanted. I protested, and said I didn't have wants, I couldn't have wants, that is not what we were, but he shook his head and said he didn't believe me. So he asked me again, a quiet chitter of sound, wispy as silk, what did I want?

And I knew. I knew then exactly what I wanted. So I told him, shakily, and my human body felt like it could not hold me properly. He stroked my cheek with a creeping limb and smiled with a full mouth, and told me if I wanted to know if he felt the same, I only needed to ask. 

I didn't ask him. I didn't need to. 

And that was when we decided to follow our own agendas. We live our own lives as much as we can. Crowley – he called himself Crawly at the beginning, he's not exactly the most imaginative, bless – 

CROWLEY  
That feels necessarily rude. 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _ignoring him_ ] – he goes through the motions. Weaving the faintest of strings to half-catch and tempt the weak-willed. The avatar of the Web is in London at the moment, so he's keeping a lower profile than usual. I watch sometimes, to sustain myself. I have humans that I favour, and I watch them to make sure they're safe. Mostly I feed by reading. Such stories humans have. Their lives imprinted in ink, there's enough of a knowledge there to keep me satiated. We don't know what would happen, if we were came to be viewed as a threat. It's unlikely that either of our sides are ignorant of our rather independent positions, and should either of them take against that.... we may be subsumed, or erased or destroyed. I don't much like to think on it. Regardless, for the most part, we are left alone. 

ARCHIVIST  
And if Beholding were to attempt a ritual?

AZIRAPHALE  
As far as I'm aware, the Web and Beholding are some of the few Powers that haven't attempted to claim any dominion over this world. Crowley's lot.... they'll never attempt a ritual, it's not in thrie nature. They like the earth as it is, so I presume his interferences with the other Powers, they chalk those up to keeping the scales balanced. My...well, our lot really, Archivist... It's difficult to say. Beholding is rather inscrutable, as you know yourself. Should there be a ritual attempted, and I do think there shall be one, I will choose my side. I have already chosen it. 

[ _breathes out a long breath_ ] Goodness me. That... that feels better than expected. I shouldn't expect to see you in my dreams tonight, I'm sure. I feel I'm rendered somewhat immune to that. 

You have anything to add, dear?

CROWLEY  
Nothing that springs to mind. You couldn't have made it any more soppy, could you?

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _bristling, slightly put-out_ ] I was trying to give an accurate account...

CROWLEY  
You gave him our relationship story, that's not exactly the same thing. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Well, I _disagree_. Do you have any further questions, Jonathan? 

ARCHIVIST  
I – Ahem. Yes. A number of the statements you appear in have you dealing with Leitners of some description. Any reason for that?

CROWLEY  
Aziraphale's rather set on... taking them out of commission, so to speak. I think he takes them as a personal affront, books being misused like that. That right, angel?

AZIRAPHALE  
Oh hush you. 

ARCHIVIST  
You... I hate to bring it up, but... you call him angel? Is that...?

CROWLEY  
It's a pet-name, Archivist. Surely you aren't that dense. 

ARCHIVIST  
You two are... together. 

CROWLEY  
[ _sounding chuffed with himself_ ] Long time now. Practically married. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Not that he's ever thought of asking. 

CROWLEY  
I just don't think two eldritch manifestations of formless horrors necessarily need a seal of approval from organised religion, is all. 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _mock sigh_ ] No romance, this one. 

ARCHIVIST  
You can love then. There's room for that. 

AZIRAPHALE  
[ _softly_ ] You can still love, Jon. 

ARCHIVIST  
I was beginning to doubt it. What with whatever I'm turning into....

CROWLEY  
You aren't a monster. 

ARCHIVIST  
But I am not... I don't think I'm human any more. 

AZIRAPHALE  
You aren't. That does not mean you have to lose your humanity.[ _a pause_ ] I cannot read the future for you, and tell you what will come to pass, that's not how this works. And however strong your powers become, you will never be able to know if the choices you're making are the right ones. But you will have to make them all the same. You will need to decide who you are, where you'll stand, what you will sacrifice. What you'll fight for. And I'm rather afraid you'll have to choose sooner rather than later. 

 

CROWLEY  
Your Martin.

ARCHIVIST  
What about him?

CROWLEY  
He thinks you're human. 

ARCHIVIST  
Martin has always been... rather charitable towards me. Even when I haven't deserved it. 

CROWLEY  
So what are you going to do?

ARCHIVIST  
I... pardon?

CROWLEY  
To deserve it. 

ARCHIVIST  
I -

AZIRAPHALE  
Not to pressure you my dear, of course. Just some food for thought. 

ARCHIVIST  
I – Right. Right. It's not that I'm not.... I don't want him to get hurt. 

CROWLEY  
He works for the Archives. It's not an option, it's an inevitability. 

AZIRAPHALE  
He told us. About the Unknowing. How you're going to stop the ritual. 

ARCHIVIST  
That's the idea, yes. 

AZIRAPHALE  
It would be a shame. If things were left unsaid between you. 

ARCHIVIST  
[ _softly_ ] ...Quite. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Something to think about. Take it as... advice, if you would. But now is not the hour to think on it further, I don't think. 

ARCHIVIST  
I-I should really go home. 

AZIRAPHALE  
You are welcome to stay.

ARCHIVIST  
...No. Thank you but no. 

AZIRAPHALE  
Very well. We'll see you out. 

ARCHIVIST  
Martin....

AZIRAPHALE  
… will be in work next morning well-rested and well-fed, and not a moment before. 

ARCHIVIST  
[ _huffs a laugh_ ] Right. 

AZIRAPHALE  
And I should hope the same applies to you. 

ARCHIVIST  
One can but hope. 

[ _walking towards the door._ ]

CROWLEY  
Come round some time once you've finished saving the world. There's always more biscuits. 

ARCHIVIST  
That would – that would be nice. 

AZIRAPHALE  
And remember to turn off those wretched things. You'll run out of tape. 

ARCHIVIST  
Ah – yes...

[CLICK]

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] case #0170712B](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444261) by [GoLBPodfics (GodOfLaundryBaskets)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfLaundryBaskets/pseuds/GoLBPodfics), [growlery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/growlery/pseuds/growlery), [watery_weasel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/watery_weasel/pseuds/watery_weasel)




End file.
